Chapter V: More School Bells

Elvis loving, Mountain Dew drinking, athletic pants with a polo shirt, and happy go lucky. My eighth grade year I met, and had the opportunity to have him as a teacher, Mr. Weatherly.

Mr. Weatherly was not a typical teacher, he was so much more. He opened your brain and poured all the historical knowledge you needed to know. It came naturally to him and he would always find a way to reach out and make you feel cooler about yourself. Every individual that had him as a teacher was given a unique nickname that no other teacher called you. No one in class was ever called by their real first name; he always called you by your nickname that he had made especially for you. You had the honor of carrying that nickname with you and the wonderful memories that went along with it. Anytime he saw you, even out side of the class or if you were no longer in his class, he'd call you by your nick name. My nickname was Frodo; yes, like the cute little hobbit from Lord of the Rings.

Doug Weatherly was unique. He was always happy and always had a joke to share. If someone was having a hard day, he sure did know how to light up a room and give you a smile. Every single one of his students was important to him and he always put us first. As a student, I looked up to him; I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be able to always make people smile the way he did; make people feel special even if their day was going downhill.

Coach Weatherly impacted many lives and helped so many kids grasp and fully understand American History. He was an amazing man and his memories will forever live on.

"Frodo, a day without sunshine is like, you know, night. Don't spend your life sleeping when, you know, you can make sunshine."

Chapter IV: School Bells

The year was 2000 and I was rockin' heart shaped sunglasses, a back pack that was bigger than me, boot cut jeans, a pink Barbie shirt, and a beautiful 90's straight-bangs-across-the-forehead-hair-cut. I was in Kindergarten in Denver, Colorado. Being the coolest cat on the block, I had not a worry in the world, except for the wondering of when nap time was, that always crossed my mind.

Packing up our mini van, we took a move to La Veta, Colorado, where I would spend sixth grade and seventh grade as a Redskin. I don't remember too much about middle school, except being an awesome kid and never getting in trouble, because I was indeed, a teacher's pet. The middle of seventh grade, my mom broke the news that "Hey! We're moving to Missouri! Pack your stuff."

Currently, I live in Monett, Missouri where I spend my high school days watching My Little Pony with my best bro, Shawna. She is a pirate. We became friends in Geometry and her peg leg blew my mind. I knew that day, that we were going to be best bros forever because friendship is magic.

Chapter III; Suddenly, I became me..

We were in our blue mini van; I had ice cream in hand and sporting neon pink heart shaped sunglasses. At two, maybe, three years old, I was the coolest cat on the block.

While idle at a red traffic light, I noticed a big truck. Excited, I started pointing and smiling. Not able to get my mom’s attention, I thought shouting truck would be the ticket. Full of enthusiasm, I blurt out “F*%$!” in place of truck. My mom suddenly turned around and said “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

Mortified, slowly pointing at the truck and whispering, I say “F*%$”.

Chuckling, she says, “No, sweetie, it’s TRUCK.”

One of my favorite memories as a child was when I was in kindergarten. As a child, I always befriended special needs kids. My first best friend was a little autistic boy named Andrew. I still have a picture of him and I stored away in a special box on my dresser.

It was Halloween in my kindergarten class. Kids dressed up as cowboys and Teletubbies, but Andrew, he was a scarecrow. He had cute overalls decked out with plaid patches and straw poking out everywhere. On top of his head was a cool straw hat. I was Pocahontas, with my hair a mess and a headband trying to keep it tame.

In my picture, he is looking at me and he has the biggest smile on his face. We are holding hands and I am smiling up at the camera. That was the last time I saw Andrew.

Later on in life, I spent my fourth grade days with a girl in a wheelchair named Mary Ann. She taught me how to make friendship bracelets and how to be a good listener.

People are people, and people are better than having no people. Everyone needs someone. These were important people in my beginning.